Christmas

i feel that i am walking through the nativity story with my home.  we have travelled from the peace of our house being in the constant state of immaculate perception, through the travail of sale, and into the chaos of moving!  from darkness to light, uncertainty to certainty.  what an appropriate time of year to feel God's nearness and care, his miraculous provision, his unshaking faithfulness.

christmas day was a whirl, not a moment to sit - unless i was building legos or making crafts or EATING or spending time with family.  who's to complain?  but i did not get a chance to sit and contemplate and wonder.  thankfully, i did get many chances to do so throughout the season of advent - one more reason to celebrate a season rather than a day.  anyways, here's some poetry for you, consider it a present.

Today you see in a stable
the Word speechless,
Greatness in smallness,
Immensity in blankets.
such wonders!...

He who had no beginning,
his being of Time begins;
the Creator, as a creature,
is now subject to our griefs.
such wonders!
(Sor Juana Ines de la Cruz, "Carol 3," Mexican, seventeenth century)

one moment from the last few weeks that really moved me was at (of all places) my daughter's Christmas assembly.  here, in a room of 700 or so children and staff of all faith backgrounds, these words are sung loud and strong:
"I love thee Lord Jesus, look down from the sky...". 
a Christmas miracle.
did a child in that crowd sing those words for the first time and question?  did an adult and begin to believe?  i was one adult who sang with conviction, except for the "no crying he makes" line.  as if. 

i was thinking in the shower this morning about having God as your child, wondering what behaviors would disappear, and what would remain.  for example:  temper tantrums.  i mean, i'd like to believe they're sinful, but maybe, like every toddler trying to find some control in life, Jesus stomped his foot as well.  Maybe Jesus would have behaved like my three year old in church Christmas Eve, tired and wanting to run and explore instead of sitting quietly by Mary.  but would Mary have said "if you do that one more time I'm cancelling Christmas"?  For obvious reasons no, but i'd like to believe that she might have threatened Purim or something :).  (not my finest parenting moment).

Christmas was a really beautiful day this year.  I feel so SO thankful that Scott is home, so in love with my family, so aware that I will look back on this Christmas for years to come as the last one in BC.  and, to make things perfect, it was complete with gloom and rain and plus8 weather.  the presents were a hit, and my boxing day wishes came true in the form of new tupperware to organize said presents.  tomorrow the boxes arrive and a new chapter begins. 

but before that, a night to sit in poetry, snuggle with my hubby, and enjoy the peace.  i hope that your night also carries within it calm and bright and heavenly peace. 

one more present, from Luci Shaw:

    After 
The white-hot beam of annunciation
fused heaven with dark earth,
his searing, sharply focused light
went out for a while,
eclipsed in amniotic gloom;
his cool immensity of splendor,
his universal grace,
small-folded in a warm, dim
female space -
the Word stern-sentenced to be
nine months' dumb -
infinity walled in a womb,
until the next enormity -
the Mighty One, after submission
to a woman's pains,
helpless on a barn's bare floor,
first-tasting bitter earth.

(Luci Shaw, "Made Flesh")

snippets

there is a bright orange sticker that says SOLD on the realtor sign in my front window.  it's beautiful.  i confess to staring at it.

my husband arrives tomorrow at one and i cannot wait to look into his eyes and love him and be loved.

at the Christmas concert last week my son interpreted "Hosanna" as "Go Santa" and sang it at the top of his lungs.  nothing like pastor's kids.  reminded me of the time we pulled up to church and my daughter, then a toddler, yelled "YAY! shopping!!"

last night as i carried my son up the stairs to bed i said "i will be so sad when you're too big for me to carry, and he said "don't worry mommy, then I'll carry YOU!!" 

the plan is to pack our house the six days following Christmas.  Scott will then drive out to Saskatoon on the 2nd of January, and I'll fly out on the 4th with the kids.  We will move into our new place on the 20th. 

it seems i have all of my Christmas wishes, and a God who, for some reason beyond my understanding, cares about them. 

the heart

i wasn't going to type this until it was in-the-bag certain, but it's looking really positive so here we go:
we've sold our house.
we've bought another house.
well, not just another house.  let me fill you in on the journey my heart has been taking these last few months.  in all of my efforts to try and enlarge in this process, to accept hope and deny fear, to live positively and fully, my heart has been shrinking.  why?  i don't know:  i miss my husband fiercely, being a single-parent is more difficult and emptying than i anticipated (and i wasn't expecting much in the first place!), the continual waiting coupled with SO many people saying their praying for us...but many people live through so so so much worse and walk around with giant hearts, ready to accept and hope and welcome.
anyways, who knows the real deep why (crap, is that the lesson i was supposed to learn here Lord?), but i have felt cardio-restriction.  and i have been whittling away at hope, until it has become a shadow of my dreams.  Instead of hoping for the new home we've been praying for in the neighbourhood we've been praying for,  and the timing we've been praying for, my hope has shrunk to "please just let this end".  well, it has.  and at the end is the house, in the neighbourhood, and pretty great timing.
in the end is what feels to be miracle.
i'm finding it difficult to accept.  my prayers have been focussed on one thing so long that i find myself still praying them even though i no longer need to. 
here's what i want to do:  grab my husbands hand and pull him outside and run through the streets shouting "thank you thank you thank you Jesus!!"  i want to laugh and cry and scream until all of this stress that i feel grinching me is let out.  i want to praise.
Praise you Lord Jesus Christ, for your miraculous birth and for the miracles you are still performing today.  Thankyou for the themes of advent:  homecoming, restoration, and joy that my readings this week have been highlighting, themes that you are carrying me through.  thank you that you are so tender with me even when i mistrust your promise of meeting the desires of my heart.
thank you for loving me
thank you for loving me
thank you for loving me.
thank you that the blessing of life with you is life with you.

ah, cardio-growth.

ode to joy

a few years ago, after my second miscarriage, i began to define joy as this:  the ability to trust in God regardless of ones circumstances. looking back over the last weeks and months of my life i can see a rhythm:  days of contentment and peace, where my eyes are on my God and my family and friends and my heart is full; and days of frustration and compulsion, where i'm tossed around by life's circumstances and wounded by my dissapointments.  joy and sorrow.  trust and distrust.

i don't mean to over simplify, for there are days where despite my best efforts to focus on the constancy of God's love i am bulldozed by anxiety.  but, on the whole there is definitely an equation to be seen of trust equalling a confidence that spills into every area of my life and relationships.

joy in me these days looks like this:  playing with my children, relaxing about my home, laughing, being brave enough to look into my mirky future and maybe even daring to dream a little, enjoying my husband, praising and thanking God throughout my day, investing in relationships.  it does not always look like happiness; i can still cry, but it's with a sense of being shielded and safe.  it certainly looks nothing like perfection, but it is movement in a right direction.

i was reading in habakkuk the other day for advent and found that habakkuk defined joy as i do.  he says this:

even though the fig trees have no blossoms,

and there are no grapes on the vines;

even though the olive crop fails,

and the fields lie empty and barren;

even though the flocks die in  the fields,

and the cattle barns are empty,

yet I will rejoice in the Lord!

I will be joyful in the God of my salvation!

The Sovereign Lord is my strength!

He makes me as surefooted as a deer,

able to tread upon the heights.

Habakkuk 3:17-19 

believing in the sovereignty of God is definitely my strength in these days.  i know that there is purpose, that there are reasons for me to be here in British Columbia while my husband is there in Saskatchewan.  is it so that i can look into the face of a friend who is newly pregnant and shine my happiness and pride to her in person?  or so that i can hold a friend who is finding it hard to stand under deep sadness and hurt?  or to celebrate with my daughter that her and her best friend have both lost their first tooth this week, and it's in the exact same spot?(!)  is it everything, or none of these things.....i know that it's not for nothing.  

so, friends and strangers, i call you to trust with me this week.  let's put our hearts and minds and bodies in the hands of the One who loves us best, and let the figs and trees and crops and cattle do what they will.

 

advent

can i share with you how God has been generous with me in the past week? 
a couple from our new church in Saskatoon amazingly gave us airmiles for the kids and i to fly there for the weekend.  our children were finally introduced to their new homeland, complete with rider-nation pandamonia, and perfectly falling snowflakes - one of which Olivia found shaped as a five-pointed star.  we were given a home to live in, a van to drive, tickets to a winter light show, incredible amounts of love and support and hugs, a fantastic lunch by a kindred spirit, beautiful growing friendship, a job my husband is loving, long embraces and promised prayers and purposed psalms, and the list goes on. 

advent is here, the season of joy and longing all muddled together, and it seems like perfect timing. 

scott pointed me toward this reading by Henri Nouwen, and i've been looking forward to sharing it with you all.  I have changed a few tenses at the end...but i don't think henri would mind.

people who wait have received a promise that allows them to wait.  they have received something that is at work in them, like a seed that has started to grow.  this is very important.  we can only really wait if what we are waiting for has already begn for us.  so waiting is never a movement from nothing to something.  it is always a movement from something to something more...a promise that nurtures you, that feeds you and that makes you able to stay where you are.  and in this way, the promise itself can grow in you and for you.

as Eugene Peterson says in his paraphrase of Romans 8:  we are enlarged in the waiting.

so my prayer for us in this advent season:  that God's promises for our lives would grow in us and enlarge us. 

i don't want to exit this time stunted and skinny with pessimism and anger as my only food.  i want to grow in thankfulness and honesty and hope and love.  i want to hit Christmas day with more joy and celebration then ever before, despite my circumstances. 

shall we enlarge together?

Psalm 27

i've been stuck in this psalm for over a week - it's like a clean cloth for my muddied soul and eyes and heart.  here it is, paraphrased by yours truly.

Psalm 27

in this dark place, God is
                  my lightsource,
                  my rescue
            so why should i fear?
God's my security, my protection from danger,
           who should i be afraid of?

whatever evil may come against me,
it will not prevail.

even if my greatest fears surround me
            i won't be afraid.
even if they attack me
           i will remain confident.

the one thing i want most in life,
          the thing that i seek out the most:
to live knowing God's presence
      every
      moment
              of my life,
to marinade in His beauty
to have my thoughts focussed on His truth.

because then, when troubles come, i'll be

                                        [hidden]

i'll be concealed in His presence
i'll be lifted 


            
                 out of reach.

then i'll walk confidently in the surrounding pain
always praising and thanking God within me:
joyful;
                                                 worshipping.

Hear this desire God. 
be merciful and help me.
my heart hears You say
      "seek my face"
okay God, i'm seeking You.

i'm seeking You

i'm seeking You

don't reject me, despite who i am.
don't leave me.  don't abandon me.

        who do i have but You?

even if those who love me most leave me,
i know You won't.
        You will hold me close.

how do i live in the midst of this pain God?
show me how to live well,
                                       and right
for i'm continually tempted to despair.
don't let me fall into it
for this sadness accuses me of failure

it threatens to kills me.

yet...
yet.

                      i am confident

i will see Your goodness here

                 in this land i live in.

wait
and wait patiently
be brave
be courageous
yes, wait patiently for God.

patience

yesterday we had someone come to see the house, so my son and I went on a date to the Wired Monk for some hot chocolate, homemade cookies (i brought them, is that bad? :)), and browsing of the lego website on my laptop - this is my three-year-old boy's favourite thing to do.  as we were looking at the many amazing lego creations he will never own, we frequently had to wait for a video or picture to load.  he would look at me and in a very serious voice, and with a very serious face, say "patience.".
patience.
nothing's changed in my crazy life of waiting, so i won't bore you with the details.  i do find that i have some extra painting time on my hands however.  i've painted this beauty (pictured with my office cabinet to show the size - it's around 2x3feet.  it's the same as the "succulents" painting somewhere on the right) if anyone's interested, and i'm a-hankerin' for something else.  fill my palette!!

i promise that when there is some exciting news to tell, you will not be the first to hear, oh blogspot of my heart, but you will be on the list of intimates to share with.  who the heck reads this thing anyways?  i hear rumours but i'm always curious...

the land of the living

so, here's the update:
the sale of our house fell through.
the purchase of our house in saskatoon, therefore, also fell through.
scott starts work monday morning two provinces away from me.
we're back at waiting.  all the dates penciled into the calendar are erased.  just uncertainty.
poured cream into my tea this morning (yes, cream in tea is awesome) and noticed the expiry date is oct. 30th.  i'm still drinking it.

remembrance day came at the perfect time.  a formation of old war planes flew over our home yesterday just after eleven.  it was so moving and beautiful.  i have been thinking of all the wives who have, and who still, say goodbye to their husbands for indefinite amounts of time, with a great chance that it's goodbye forever. and how even if their husband returns he is often no longer the man they married, or at the very least, has experienced events she will never comprehend.  and suddenly, i've got it easy!!

God's been speaking to me through Psalm 27 this week - each day another verse hits me deeply.  yesterday it was the last two:

yet I am confident i will see the Lord's goodness

while I am here in the land of the living.

Wait patiently for the Lord.

Be brave and courageous.

Yes, wait patiently for the Lord.

I almost didn't return to BC for my senior year of university.  I had this idea that i wasn't living a full life as a disciple of Christ because i was involved in the Christian "bubble" of Trinity Western University.  in my discernment process that summer God gave me this phrase "the land of the living" and really impressed on me that this land, in my case, was BC.  i came back here, started dating scott in my last week of school, and have never left.  actually, since we began dating we haven't been separated for over 10 days.  and BC has definitely been the land of new life for me, my promised land of fullness and beauty and growth.   so, this verse yesterday shot to a deep place: i will see the Lord's goodness while i am here...
be brave Janet
be courageous.
wait patiently.

i'm waiting God.  i'm waiting.  i'm waiting.

today i will watch for God's goodness and will not be disappointed.  in fact, i've already seen it in the health of my children and their joy - waking up to hugs and smiles and excitement for a day off from school.  french toast.  sunlight.

but not this tea.  God's blessing is not in the old cream.

failing

i think that everyone of us, EVERY one, has this underlying fear that someday someone is going to figure out we don't know what we're doing.

if God were testing me, today i would not only have had red x's and circles and question marks written all around me and on me, but surely, surely i would have had some previous gold stars removed.

it began in the middle of the night with scott coughing until he puked.  my response?  compassion? care? love? are you kidding? i thought "of course you're sick.  of course.  because i'm sick, i've been nauseous all day and now you've upped me by puking and now i'm going to have to take care of you and YOU ALWAYS GET SICKER THAN ME!!!"

which, of course, entered the day with me and hovered over me until scott and i had it out around 10am, ending in this confession "i'm a not so nice wife" and the response "hmmmm".

i feel overwhelmed by the move, by the fact that the conditions on the sale of our home have had to be extended, jeopardizing the purchase of our new home.   today i have welcomed old thought patterns and actions that i fully intended to crucify the last time i dealt with them.  i have snapped at my children ("wipe your own bum and get out of the bathroom!!").  i've sulked and pouted and grumped.  for the last few hours i've had this phrase running through my head "i do what i do not want to do.  who can save me from this body of death?"

thanks be to God.  Thank you God that you don't keep score, that you do not own a red pen, that you smile at me and cry for me and dust me off and encourage me forward.  that you are fully aware i really don't know what i'm doing, and don't expect me to.  thank you.

i packed up my studio today, sealing the boxes that hold my creativity and expression and moments of grand escape.  but they're carefully labelled!  just in case.  we are scheduled to move into our new home in Saskatoon on November 24th, exactly three weeks from today.

three weeks of boxes and tape and where are the scissors? and deep breathing and goodbye and crying and food from friends and falling into bed and goodbye again and cleaning and forgetting and remembering and i don't want to say goodbye.

will there be enough time to say goodbye to this home of joy and laughter and miscarriage and depression and healing and prayer and birth and life?

will there be time to hold each of you and somehow express how i love you?


i do not want to fail at this.

Multiple Personality Disorder

well, it's happened.  someone is buying our house.  their conditions lift on November 3rd, and they are set to take possession on November 20th.  meaning, if all goes well, we will be in Saskatoon in 4 weeks. 
AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

I feel tongue-tied and inadequate as a writer to explain how I feel right now.  the closest I can come is this:  i feel like I have a multiple personality disorder.  I am elated, I'm excited, I'm planning and dreaming and happy. I am sad, I am crying, I am missing my friends and family all ready.  I am wanting to hold on to my moments and make them move in slow motion so that I can be beside that friend longer, in this space longer, and comfortable for longer.  and then i'm laughing.  and then i'm crying again.  do you get the picture? 

one of the many things that the journey of the last 6 months has taught me is the importance of church.  now, i know I'm losing a few of you, but hear me out.  there is something authentically beautiful and deeply meaningful about worshiping God WITH friends.  with people who care about your issues, who have heard about your crap (and have prayed through the crap with you), who celebrate your successes.  they're truly your friends, and you stand with them before God and move in the same direction and resonate with the same Spirit and feel convicted and moved and inspired together.  I left church this morning having met with three such dear and beautiful friends feeling bereft.  in all honesty, feeling scared at the amount of time it could take before I am surrounded again by a community of people who know me as I am, and who walk with me before God on a weekly basis. 

I miss Parkside. 

however, i have already met some incredibly amazing people in Saskatoon and I have hope. 

I'm thinking i'll be a two-faced maniac for halloween.  no costume necessary!

On Friday Scott and I spent the afternoon on a date in Fort Langley - Wendels for coffee and bookstore wandering, window shopping, a few minutes at the river...and we were heavy with the waiting - the indefinite waiting.  another week had gone by with no interest in our home.  we were quiet and sighing and sad.  Friday night we got the call that there was a showing for noon saturday.  I woke up Saturday morning with this feeling in my chest (you know that feeling?) of hope.  hope.  I said to God in the shower "I feel hope and I don't want to". 
I've so wanted to walk through this transition well.  To be solid in faith and trust.  To be optimistic and real and honorable.  Saturday morning was an alarm in my head:  i don't want to feel hope.  I could hear Jesus in the boat with his disciples, waves and wind lashing around them, shouting to be heard
"why are you afraid?!"
I had a great explanation why i was afraid, lots of reasons, lots of evidence, lots of 'what if's'. 
and now here I sit on the other side of the storm, on the other side of hundreds of storms, and i think, "why do I let myself fear?"  is it self-preservation?  is it my harness in this "holy wild" of life with God? 
well, that's idiotic.  fear does not preserve or protect. 
ah, when will I ever learn?

anyways, all that to say, I feel hope tonight, at least at this minute.
for all those of you here, i will miss you deeply.   deeply deeply.
for all those of you there, i'm looking forward to the friends we will become.

abiding

So, today (after singing quite loudly in the shower at 9am in an exercise of calming down my worries by worship) some hope!  After our house has been on the market for 16 days we finally have our first viewing tomorrow.  The house is what I have now termed "ship", which is short form for "ship-shape" (because who's got the time for the second syllable?) and I would be grateful if you'd pray with me that whoever comes here tomorrow would be "the ones", and fall head-over-heels for our little beautiful home.

this complete dependance on God business is no piece of cake.  It's been a difficult week, trying to find my groove as the new bread winner in the family.  Last night a dear friend (you know who you are!) gifted scott and i with a few hours out and we sat in a coffee shop and did what Walter Wangarin terms "the work of marriage" - in other words, we divided up the duties.  i have kept bathrooms and grocery shopping but am thrilled to say that Scott has most of the rest!  Now i have to do the work of not micro-managing.  I feel you all out there feeling with me.

It's also been a difficult week dealing with anxiety.  Selling our home has proved no easy matter, and i'm getting tired of hoping every time the phone rings that it's our real estate agent.  ironic that i was in the shower when he finally did call this morning.  I was singing that song
whom have I but you?
though the mountains fall into the sea
whom have I but you?
though my coloured dawn may turn to shades of gray
whom have I but you?
though my questions asked may never be resolved
whom have I but you?

do you know it?  it helped.
my dear friend (you still know who you are) also gifted me with a massage this week.  actually, it was technically termed a "release" of my gluteus maximus (why did they give it a technical name that screams "HUGE!"?) - which technically means her elbow was digging into my butt cheek.  anyways, as we were talking, whenever the word "house" was said my whole body would instantly tense like a rock.  it's amazing to me how you can work so hard to keep your thoughts and actions centered on trusting and hoping and resting in God, but the stress gets pushed into your body anyways.  how do we stop this?  how do we live lives that are truly totally abiding?  i guess practice makes perfect, but i'm really hoping that this practice session is almost over!

thanks for all of your prayers for us, your words of affirmation and kindness when i meet you at the grocery store or in church lobbies, your continued interest in our lives and children's lives.  i will definitely post if we sell the house in the next few days.  and, hey, have i ever mentioned that i love comments?  that i actually might check for comments numerous times a day like a total nerd?  that my blog-savvy husband just showed me how to open up my comments so that anyone and everyone could write one to me? 
just saying.

Psalm 127 has been medicine for my soul this week.  go read it, and rest in God's love (as well as you can).

working and waiting

I spent most of yesterday working on a painting of my neighbours three daughters.  she had this awesome idea of painting them with iconic halos on their heads as a birthday gift for her husband.  i was only two happy to oblige.  as i started drawing out the canvas i had this idea take shape that maybe, just maybe, i could do a better portrait of them than a stranger could because i know them.  i know how Laura wants devil sticks for Christmas, and Eloise is allergic to apples and Charlotte hates (and i mean HATES) spiders...these were my utopic (is that a word?) thoughts as i drew.


and then i began to paint.


six hours later i called my friend and left this message on her answering machine:
"i have just painted a lovely girl, but sadly she doesn't seem to be your daughter.  i don't know who she is, but she's definitely not Laura."


the force was not with me.


i woke up this morning, a little scared to enter the studio (a.k.a. basement corner) again.  But things came easier, and then joyfully and then HALLELUJAH: charlotte was staring back at me.  I talked to my mom and she said "i was praying for you".
what would your gut response be to that?
mine was to refrain from laughing, thinking "why would you pray for something as trivial as a painting?".
okay, i hear you all tsking, but seriously, with famine and genocide and legalized prostitution, why waste mental energy and spiritual connection on a painting?


later in the day i was reading Psalm 90:16,17
     Let your work be shown to your servants,
     and your glorious power to their children.
    Let the favour of the Lord our God be upon us,
     and establish the work of our hands upon us,
     yes, establish the work of our hands!


this is the work of my hands, the work that God has shown me to do, and gifted me (most days) for.  So, pray for me and Eloise tomorrow.  that her little cherub face would be established in the work of my hands.


and pray for this:  that we sell our house.


Scott is in the process of being hired by Ebenezer Baptist Church (no laughing at the name!) in Saskatoon (no laughing at that either!!  I already feel protective...).  We want to move there ASAP, and there's a house there we'd love to buy, BUT, we have to sell ours.
selling a house is a crazy business.  it's so passive.  you lay the sale of your most valuable material possession in the hands of strangers, and pay them extravagantly for their work, which frankly you experience very little of,  and then you wait.  and wait.
no viewings.  no offers.
we had people come in the open house last weekend, but nothing since.
my house looks wicked awesome and i have this notion that if I could just talk with someone even vaguely interested about moving into this neighbourhood I could sell it no problem. but i can't talk.  as far as I know I can't even meet them.


the waiting game is completely a trust game for me.


I read this the other night:
It's almost as if God forms a parenthesis in time and a parenthesis in space around us.  He is hovering all around you all the time. *
What an incredible thought, that God is circling me, my physical body, but also my time.    "you hem me in, behind and before...Psalm 139".  It is a great comfort in these days.  When I was younger I used to resist trusting God, feeling that if i allowed myself to be in a place of vulnerability (which is truly every breath, but anyways) God would use the chance to "teach me a lesson".  I heard the pattern of those thoughts returning recently.  that God would probably wait until the very last second to sell our house to "teach me" about faith...which puts God back in the position of manipulating ruler rather than good King.  So, I'm training my mind to view my situation through this lens:  fundamentally God is Good, and does all things for my good.  not to teach me lessons, although I'm sure that's a part of it.  But because He loves me, and is working in the parenthesis around me because He loves me.


amen?
may God establish the work (nursing, scrubbing, stirring, confronting, time-outing, driving, knitting) of your hands.


*(Mark Batterson - In a Pit with a Lion on a Snowy Day)

haiku

I'm currently sitting in the Calgary airport by a window overlooking the tarmac, sunshine streaming upon me.  We are on our way to Saskatoon, the funnel of the whirlwind which is my life is drawing closer by the second.  can i give you a quick re-cap of the last 24hours?
proofed the feature sheet for our home, returned from a parent-teacher interview to find the "for sale" sign up on the front lawn.  cleaned all the bathrooms, finished laundry, kitchen floor, etc..  at 2:30 i was looking ahead of schedule.
Olivia passes me an envelope in the car.
she has lice.
panic attack.
strip the beds, grab toys, towels, coats and shove them in the washer/dryer.  get lice shampoo.  ditch the tastey dinner i was going to make and opt for sliders/steak (but homemade fries!).  i figure the baby carrots consumed as afternoon snack will count as the dinner vegetable.
spray, bath, shampoo and comb the hell out of my kids hair.  (if "hell' is a bit strong, insert "lice larvae").
talk to my mother-in-law who is about to care for my children for the next 6 days with fear and trepidation, only to be received with laughter and compassion.  praise the Lord for Beverly Anderson!!!
remake the beds, let go of spot-checking the carpets and walls.
pack.
fall into bed (after finishing "pretty in pink") at 11:20. not too shabby.  up at 6:15 and out the door by 7:35. my house is immaculate.  my children are (please God!) lice-free.  my marriage is intact.  the whirlwind has not beaten me yet!

i read a very short Psalm yesterday that said "i will quiet my soul", which is an interesting thought - that i could actually have control over quieting that part of me which seems assaulted by emotions and motivations and fears that feel out of my control.  So, yesterday after the "envelope" (which, incidentally Olivia passed to me like it was a precious gift, "I'm the ONLY one that got one mom!") i walked around my home commanding my soul to settle down.  and it worked!  I mean, true, my husband looked at my face and said "let's go to the library kids!" and so thoughtfully disappeared for a few hours (don't sit on the couches at the Cloverdale library for a few days).  but, this focus on the state of my soul, and this mental work of quieting down, of trusting, of leaving my life in God's overly capable hands was truly a life-preserver in the tumultuous ocean.  or, to continue the metaphor, a basement in the whirlwind.

this past weekend i made a new friend.  I  was at RockRidge Canyon Resort - a Young Life camp, which is GORGEOUS with some very dear friends, and i got to meet some fantastic ladies.  I told a few that I was going off one morning to find myself and write myself down on paper in preparation for interviews this week in Saskatoon.  that evening Christy asked me if I did indeed find myself and I said, "yes, but it only took me one page to write down.  what does that mean"  she answered "it means you're a poet.  you're so in tune with yourself that you could distill yourself down to a haiku."
so i did.  here it is.

Janet.
I want to love you
and show you God's beauty, but
what's your name again?

pray for us in Saskatoon.
I was kidding about the library couches.  they sat on the floor.

random notes

i apologize to you who are my "readers", if I may use the term, for writing so little the last few weeks.  Life's been a bit chaotic.  i feel as though the cycle of change that scott and I have been in over the last months is now spinning faster and faster and we are falling into this vortex of no-turning-back.  not that i'm scared of the vortex, i'm just finding the spinning a little tiring!

Lately i've been struggling with the lack of thankfulness displayed on a minute-to-minute basis by my children (who are 6 and 3).  i've composed a proverb (yes, i write proverbs now that i'm a blogger.  this is my first).
yelling at a child to be thankful
does not a thankful child make
i feel like the sphinx from "mystery men".  yes, there has been some verbage cast across the kitchen in recent days (i learned to sing loudly from my diaphram and it comes in handy when displaying unholy fits of anger).  "Just eat it and be thankful!!"  "Do you know some children don't eat for DAYS ON END!!!".  i almost brought African starvation into it but i stopped short - who wants to be typical?
so here's my question:  how do you cultivate the spirit of thankfulness and gratitude in small children?  Not just with food, but with toys and time and sacrifice?

and then there are moments that take your breath away as a parent, and lead me into greater thankfulness and gratitude for my kids.  I went grocery shopping with Carter the other day and it was raining, no, downpouring.  I stopped in the driveway, the car filled with bags, (can i just add here that I budgeted $80 and my total was $80.06), and I looked out at the rain and a little voice, filled with conviction, came from behind me:
"we can do dis mommy". 

maybe this is where it starts, the more I show my gratitude for my children, the more that spirit of thankfulness will permeate our home and interactions. 

but maybe not. :)

we go to Saskatoon next week.  I will try and blog as soon as I am able.  thanks for your patience with me.  i have a few commissions in queue, i'll post pics as soon as they're done. 

a spoonful of sugar

i watched Mary Poppins today with my husband and kids.  we turned the t.v. room into a little theatre with a mattress and pillows and blankets and settled in.  it was the perfect rainy Sunday afternoon activity.  and that nanny is so wise!  In one of her first scenes she comes out with two zingers, first:

"a thing of beauty is a joy forever"

sadly, as she's saying this she's pulling a truly hideous plant out of her carpet bag.  but, the truth still rings out.
and then:

"enough is as good as a feast"

wow.
that hit home.  right now God is providing enough.  just enough.  and he's providing it in surprising and tender and generous ways.  it is a feast to accept your daily bread from the hands of God.  a humbling beauty.

i heard Carolyn Arends speak this morning.  that's right, Carolyn Arends of the Christian pop culture.  she was amazing!  i've heard rumors to that end, but i confess i didn't totally believe.  she spoke about the Beatitudes and explained how they're not a list to try and check off (i mourned today!), but rather they are characteristics that will begin to manifest in our lives when God's kingdom begins to break through.  "it's not about us working to get into God's kingdom, but about God's kingdom getting into us".  So, when we start to live life centered on God's will and way, we will begin to recognize our own poverty of spirit, we will begin to mourn with God for the state of our world, we will begin to carry our strength with meekness because that's how Christ carried his, etc..

lately i feel that God is teaching me about hungering and thirsting for righteousness.  He's trying to break this part of the kingdom into me:  to long to move through life right.  not "i'm right and you're wrong", but, "i handled that situation how God wanted me to".  i just want to do this well!  this waiting and transition and poverty and frustration and imbalance - i want to walk through this time having held on, with faith and trust deepened instead of broken.  i want to feast on the "enough", and not become bitter and entitled.

i confess that at times i have felt surprised at how deep my roots seem to have grown in this faith, but i also confess my fear that my breaking point is just around the corner.

God, keep me.
Christ behind me, Christ before me, Christ below me, Christ above me, Christ beside me - on my left and my right, Christ within me, Christ without me.  Christ in all, holding all things together for my good.
Your kingdom come and will be done, on earth, in me, as it is in heaven
amen.

heavy

so, i've gained a few pounds in the past couple weeks because i have discovered the wonders of whipping cream.

i know, you're thinking that you discovered whipping cream much younger in life.  i actually remember going to a friend's house in grade five and eating a whole bowl of whip cream for lunch.
but no, this is a deeper discovery.  like bacon, it seems that EVERYTHING tastes better with whipping cream.  here's what i've made in the past two weeks using 33% milk fat:
soup (i can hardly think about it without groaning)
pasta sauce
cheesecake topping (come on, i had to make something for scott's birthday!)
and my current nemesis:  coffee.

i had the best cup of coffee in my life on Friday.

our current financial status inspires me to not let any food spoil, so what is to be done but finish off the litre?

i'll do penance in bootcamp.

next to godliness

 i started this day by cleaning the h-e-double-hockey-sticks out of my kitchen.  did anyone else use that phrase as a child/teen, or am i shamelessly flashing around my pentecostal upbringing?  if (and that's a big if) cleanliness is next to godliness, then my kitchen venetian blinds were straight from Gehenna.

i remember when we lived in our old place (which is just across our townhouse complex) my neighbour came out of her home one day, huffing and puffing as only a middle-aged English woman can do.  "It's blind cleaning day" she said, as though that should make everything perfectly clear.  "what does that mean?" i asked (shameful!).
"that" was the day every year (sometimes twice!) where my dear neighbour and her husband would remove every venetian blind in their home, bring them one by one into their bathtub and clean them.  i must have looked at her with a mixture of shock and horror.  the most predominant thought in my new-homeowner mind being "WHAT?!  I HAVE TO DO THAT?!!!"
today, five years later, i did it.  well, one blind.  and i huffed and puffed, as only a mid-thirties canadian woman can do.

we are currently getting our house ready to put it on 'the market'.  my beautiful little home, sold to the highest bidder.  will the new owners care about the custom made (by me) paint colours in the kitchen?  notice the baseboards are clean?  celebrate the tree outside our front window?  love our neighbours?  contribute to our neighbourhood?  i wish we could interview potential buyers.

so, i started the day scrubbing and ended it painting the back deck.  and in between, i kissed my daughter good-bye on her first day of grade one, i made a train with my son and started knitting him some fingerless gloves (their bootiful mommy!), i sat in the sun and watched him play and ride his bike.  i read Hannah's prayer in 1 Samuel 2, and echoed the praise of Psalm 113 "He gives the barren woman a home, making her the joyous mother of children".

truly He has done great things for me.  and i have done great things for my kitchen.

expansion

things are moving and growing and the future in my mind is widening and looking quite beautiful.  a scripture that scott and i have been holding onto in these past months is Psalm 18:19
He brought me out into a spacious place;
he rescued me because He delighted in me.
it is a wild thing to grow in your delight of God, and find that His delight is in you.  i think i've had tastes of this in the past months of journey - on the beaches of California, at my easel in the basement, in my parents backyard, at the stream in Langley.  why would God give such beauty and creativity and restoration unless He truly does love me and enjoy my joy?

saskatoon has been on our minds and hearts for a few months now, as we've been in a hiring process with Ebenezer church.  it seems (although i've never been there) like a land filled with spacious places.  a place for our family to breathe deeply, for my husband to lay back into his calling and grow, for my gifts to take flight.
we had an interview on Friday.  we got a call tuesday night.  scott and i will fly off to saskatoon at the end of this month, where we'll have a whirlwind preaching tour, and hopefully be affirmed in the position "pastor of spiritual formation" (with a key role in preaching).
YIPPEE!
thanks for your prayers, keep them coming!  i'm not sure how long it will take us to sell our home and buy another, but it's looking to me like we'll be moving to the prairies in winter.  i started knitting gloves for olivia two days ago.  who am i kidding, they're fingerless.  we're going to have to buy some serious sheepskin gortex spandex somethings for our whole bodies.  long johns.  snow pants.  balaclavas.

he's bringing me out into spacious freezing cold minus sixty places, because He delights in me.

retraction

i wrote a post yesterday about how i have this personality flaw? issue? oddity? of sometimes saying highly personal things in the wrong situations.  after the post was up for an hour, i realized that the example i gave was actually too personal for the cyber world.
ironic.
so now i've spent a night feeling embarrassed and concerned that someone read it and was offended or put off by my candor.  i admit that when i write these posts i'm picturing my dear friends faces, and not the wide variety of people in faraway places who i have invited into this little space of mine.  lesson learned.  please accept my sincere apology.

Generosity

it's been a heavy week.  heavy with friendship and conversation and laughter and tears.  heavy with self-doubt, questions and prayers.  I feel that through it all God is teaching me about generosity.


right now, in this unemployed stage of life, we are living solely in the generosity of God.  it's obvious in every aspect.  yet, in truth, we all live in this constant state of absolute dependance, every life has claim to God's generous nature. 


I have been reading "Living the Christian Year" by Bobby Gross, which walks me weekly through the liturgical calander, with Bible readings and really insightful comments/questions, and prayers.  the readings this week are on, you guessed it, generosity.  here's the opening lines Bobby writes:
God is generous.  He gives us his image in our very being. He gives us the bounty of creation to sustain our lives.  He gives us himself in the incarnation of the Word.  He gives us redemption through the sacrifice of his Son.  He gives us his very Spirit to indwell us.  He gives us the promise of resurrection and life forever in his presence.  
here's the parts that stand out to me:  God is generous in the very structure of my body/mind/spirit - because I'm fashioned after Him; he's generous in the cosmos and in history, and he is moment-by-moment generous by indwelling me.  there is a part of me that is actually God alive, that's actually not me at all, but HIM.  these are areas my mind is starting to meander through. 


I want to be generous.  I want to be a generous friend and mother and wife and neighbour.  i want to be generous in grace and acceptance and love.  But here's my quandry this week:  when is it that my generosity turns to enabling?  can I be too generous?  too accepting and giving and sacrificing?  the short answer i feel is "no".  but then there's this balancing line, this verse that is sitting on my shoulder:  "you do not belong to yourself" (1 Cor. 19). 
i do not belong to myself.  you do not belong to yourself. we do not belong to ourselves.
its a hard sentence for me in my western-2010 mindset to swallow, and maybe even harder for me to express to others. in one sense, it motivates generosity.  but in another, it encourages me to confront, to call out, to hold truth tighter than happiness and personal fulfillment.  i'm finding it a hard balance.  


but here's the personal good news I'm experiencing from this verse: if i don't belong to myself, i belong to this generous, all-loving, all-good God.  this God that is residing in and around and through me.
              i belong.
i don't have to control my justice, my image, my finances, my joy.  and lately, i've been tasting this a bit.  i've been experiencing the truth that the more i hand over, the better life works for me - not in surface-level ways, but in deep-gut peace, confidence, thankfulness ways.  is there anyone out there that resonnates with this?  i need some solidarity :).  some communion of the saints.
it's been a heavy week, and this is a heavy entry.  i will lighten up soon I promise!


as i'm writing about generosity i've been less than generous with my children, so i need to sign off.  whoopsie daisy!
i'm adding a photo of my latest painting commissioned by my friend Dawn to signify "home" - through lily of the valley (her grandmother and mother both had this beautiful flower in their gardens).  i am currently starting three paintings - another of the succulents, but this time nice and big (20x30), one of my kitchen window, and one of a little purple flower.  I'll post them as I finish them - they're all for sale, so let me know if you're interested!

beauty will save the world - Dosteovsky

I sat by a babbling stream today, watching my children trying to dam up the current.  I painted some dew-laden lily-of-the-valley.  I breathed deeply when I entered my home, savouring the colours and fresh hydrangeas.  I ate maple smoked bacon. 
It was a beautiful day.


I'm reading a book entitled "for the beauty of the church - casting a vision for the arts", edited by David Taylor.  I've only made it through the first chapter so far, but am already deeply encouraged as an artist, and as a Christ follower.  I'm not going to summarize, but I'll let you in on my favourite quote:

Our attitude toward art ultimately has a great deal to do with our attitude toward worship.  Much is at stake in whether we think that our worship is a free response to grace or an exercise in persuasion, an effort to get either God or people to do what we want them to do...There is a kind of art that is too easy, too willing to let us off the hook, too comforting and too culpably ignorant of what exactly grace costs.  At the moment, we find this most often in the bestselling art of the Christian subculture than in the secular art world...

I wanted to jump up and down when I read this.  Often I feel this pull to easy art, and easy Christianity, that looks a certain way and seems useful (the painting is useful because it has Biblical subject matter....I am a useful person because i did the laundry and played with my children).  But is that truly what defines me?  what makes me adequate -  my usefulness?  is that what defines my art?  my worship? parenting?  marriage?  Do I live my life in such a way as to appease my God, to prove that I'm of some use, or to enjoy Him and all that He has given me? 

"the chief end of man is to glorify God by enjoying Him forever" (Piper)

What I'm trying to get at is that it's enough for me to live in a state of dependant thankfulness, aware of God's goodness, eager to glorify Him, and to enjoy His beauty.  I need to look less at my usefulness, and more at the inherent grace in each inhale and exhale. 

I've been questioning these flowers I've been painting, like they're not overtly glorifying God enough (which I know is ridiculous).  And the time I spend working to make my house a place of beauty and rest and respite (is this important?).  And the lengths I go to to prepare a delicious meal (hence the aforementioned pasta sauce dilemna).  And the happiness I get from a good hair day and nice fitting pants (nuff said).  And how I stare at my children intoxicated by how beautiful they are (pride pride pride).  I'm encouraged because I believe that God is telling me that He is beauty, that He sustains and perpetuates beauty, and that I can worship Him in the beauty I find (and sometimes even create) around me.   I am finding grace for myself in the moment-by-moment of God's grace to me. 

in short form:  maybe it's okay that I'm a fanatic for beauty.

I heard the "beauty will save the world" quote on CBC, where a documentary went on to introduce a number of people who's lives were sincerly changed by an experience of beauty.  And I wanted to shout (actually, I might have), GOD is beauty!  He was talking about GOD!!!  My friend Cori recently asked me to paint an image of her being embraced by God, by her "heavenly father".  She later told me that the act of creating the image I would work from for the painting was very healing and confirming for her.  Amazing.  I feel so grateful to have been a part of that process, and I hope the beauty in this painting continues to change her world for years to come. (sorry the pic is a bit tilted)

food for the journey

This is my story, told to my church our 2nd last Sunday there.  I hope it's an encouragement to you. http://parksidechurch.ca/life/?p=129

here we go

Alright, we begin.
As you may know, our lives are in a state of transition at the moment.  We are waiting to hear from a church in Saskatoon, but beyond that lead, we really have no prospects for work for Scott.  He is currently job searching for something temporary, and I'm painting as much as I can. 
It's a struggle.  How much do I really trust my God?  And what shape does that trust take - does trusting God mean I don't worry about money at all, or does it mean that I try to be as thrifty as possible and look for him to fill in the spaces?  Do I buy my favourite pasta sauce trusting that God will supply, or do I buy the cheaper variety believing that I need to do all I can to save money?
I bought the cheaper one. 
Grocery shopping was wrought with indicision and self-questioning.  It made me think of the majority of people in this world who live in the constant anxiety of feeding their families - a feeling that I haven't experienced in many years. 
Scott and I have been reminiscing with the kids about when he was a student and I was a part-time teacher, how we often saw God meet our needs in miraculous ways.  How the fact that we made it through those years without debt is truly miraculous.

Anyways, I'm starting this blog for those of you who I may (or may not!) be leaving soon.  A place of attachment and update, where I can continue to share my life with you.  I have never been a great long-distance friend, so my prayer is that this venue will help keep up connected. 
That said, I don't intend to write daily here, hopefully once a week will be manageable.